This show has undergone a long and interesting developmental process. Lizzie Borden: An American Musical was first created by writer/director Maner and songwriter Cheslik-DeMeyer in 1990 as a hybrid between experimental theater and rock concerts for the American Living Room Festival. Not only did the creative team love the idea of casting a musical with female rockers, after their four-woman, four-song piece finished its first performance at a former factory in SoHo, the audience was clamoring for more.

Eliza Leoni's staging does a superb job of reshaping the legend of Lizzie Borden by telling it through the four women who were actually involved in the incident. In addition to Lizzie and her neighbor, Alice Russell, the audience meets Lizzie's older sister, Emma (Jessica Coker), who has discovered that her father has named Abigail as his beneficiary. Not only does Emma hate her stepmother with a white-hot fury, she fears that "something might happen" which could prevent Abigail from ever inheriting Mr. Borden's estate.

Surprisingly, it is the family's sarcastic Irish maid, Bridget Sullivan, who consistently brings down the house with hints of the explosion of female rage that is yet to come. Looking a bit like a demented and determined Kathy Griffin, Melissa Reinertson drove the bloodthirsty trio at the end of Act I ("Somebody Will Do Something") to a fever pitch.

Melissa Reinertson, Elizabeth Curtis, and Taylor Jones in a scene from
Ray of Light Theatre's production of Lizzie (Photo by: Nick Otto)

Sunday, September 27, 2015

Unless you include Davey (the parakeet who, during his brief tenure in our home, liked to walk across my omelets), my family's fascination with bird life has more artistic and scientific than pet oriented. Long before I knew who John James Audobon was (or anything about his contributions to the study of ornithology), I recognized three of his paintings from their place on the wall behind my parents' bed.

John James Audobon's painting of a Louisiana heron

Initially unaware of the transformation happening in each other's living rooms, my sister and I began decorating our homes with artwork based on owl themes. We currently take great delight in sharing videos and pictures of owls with family and friends on our Facebook feeds.

A photo of a rare Madagascar Red Owl

Thanks to the wonder of the Internet and programs like Animal Planet, it is now possible to appreciate nature's beauty through magnificent footage and gorgeous photographs of beautiful birds from around the world.

Because my father died in 1992, he was never able to watch the mating behaviors of exotic birds that frequently show up on cable television.

While I'm pretty sure he had a chance to witness the murmurations of large flocks of starlings, he missed out on the beauty of Winged Migration, a 2001 documentary that took avian photography to new and breathtaking heights.

* * * * * * * * *

Winged Migration was an uplifting experience of nearly hypnotic beauty. A new documentary entitled The Messenger (which will be screened during the 2015 Mill Valley Film Festival) offers a sobering followup as it demonstrates how precipitously the population of migrating birds has diminished in recent years. In describing his annual summer trip to a family cabin in northern Idaho during this season's Western wildfires, SFGate columnist Mark Morford noted that:

"Up in Idaho, when the smoke was so thick it turned the sky a pallid urine color, I noticed something else: the birds. They stopped chirping. The air often fell dead still. No bees, no bugs, no osprey, no eagles; the smoke appeared to choke off all normal, life-affirming activity. I heard reports of herds of parched, exhausted, soot-covered elk and deer crossing local highways, seeking water and relief from the fire. That same afternoon, I noticed a huge swarms of dead flies (not the usual lake gnats, the no-see-ums and such, but large, black flies by the tens of thousands) covering the surface of lake near our cabin. I skipped my swim."

"This is what we have yet to realize: it’s not just about preparing for more severe weather. It’s far more about what’s about to happen to the experience of life itself, how we navigate our terrifically spoiled, entitled daily lives and with what newfound combination of panic and kindness -- all amplified, to a rather terrifying degree, by the realization that the more we refuse to change our gluttonous ways, the more nature is going to step in and change them."

Su Rynard's documentary uses facts and figures to document the various ways in which bird populations are dying off. Some come as no surprise to bird lovers:

Another segment shows how French hunters are continuing to trap Ortolan buntings (a local delicacy) so that they can fatten the birds before cooking them. Although the bunting may have a long legacy as a culinary delicacy, the fact that it is an endangered species doesn't seem to impress the hunters who savor its taste.

Although technology has helped ornithologists and environmentalists to develop a better understanding of the causes of decreasing bird populations, it can't necessarily solve the problem. Dr. Martin Wikelski demonstrates how satellite technology can track individually banded birds over thousands of miles. While his data visualizations offer a glimpse into previously unknown (and unseen) movements of birds, when they are caught and measured, some birds reveal alarmingly low levels of body fat. In her director’s statement, Su Rynard writes:

"In recent years I noticed that the birds I used to see and hear were no longer around. I rationalized this thinking that I was too busy or was somehow missing the birds. Then I read Bridget Stutchbury’s book (Silence of the Songbirds) and realized that it isn’t [just] me. Songbirds are disappearing, and we are losing them faster than any other time in human history. To understand why this is happening and what can be done, we embarked on a journey."

"Over the course of a year, following the seasons and the birds, our team filmed on three different continents. We discovered that the causes are many, and each species has a different story to tell. Yet everywhere we went, we met people who are working for change (this is not just about the future of birds, it’s about us, too). Humans share an ageless bond with birds, their song, and their persistent presence in our lives. In the past, humans looked to the flights and songs of birds to predict the future. Today once again, the birds have something to tell us."

Rynard's documentary paints a disturbing picture of how man-made climate change is various species of birds while draining migrating populations of their numbers. As new reports continue to focus on melting glaciers, forest fires, and rising sea levels, this time the canary's warning is not coming from the proverbial coal mine. Instead, it's all around us. Here's the trailer:

Lee's protagonist is Bradley (Greg Ayers), a young, financially insecure artist who has retreated to a cabin in the woods following tremendous acclaim for creating one great work of art. However, once the noise died down and the media spotlight faded, Bradley found himself producing work that was, at best, mediocre. The slick gallery owner (Leon Goertzen) who helped make Bradley successful makes the long trek to inform the starving artist that, unless he starts producing some great work, their business relationship will come to an end.

Geortzen's character is a materialistic, sarcastic, and pushy agent whose cold, clinical approach to the demands of the art market leaves little room for clients who can't generate major sales. With Bradley seemingly uninterested in the kind of commercial success that could bring him substantial material wealth, the gallery owner is ready to abandon one of his pet discoveries.

Monica Ho is Sadako in JC Lee's Crane (Photo by: Adam Tolbert)

Meanwhile, in another part of the forest, a young woman named Sadako (Monica Ho) has decided that she can no longer stay with her mother (whose constant attention is stifling her). Whether Sadako's need to "fly from the nest" is real or a literary gimmick remains to be seen. However, after she meets Bradley in the middle of a bitter cold winter and takes shelter in his cabin, Sadako reveals a magical talent that could save Bradley's career as an artist (as long as he can keep it a secret).

Crane's more fanciful notions include flying houses, refrigerators that call you on your cell phone, and a intriguingly telekinetic form of creating art. It deals with age-old questions of art versus commerce, integrity versus greed and, as always, "What I Did For Love." Feathers keep dropping as brilliant new works of art appear until Sadako dies a mysterious death.

Monica Ho as Sadako in Crane (Photo by: Adam Tolbert)

Working on a unit set by Kuo-Hao Lo (with costumes by Keiko Shimosato Carreiro), the ensemble was directed by Mina Morita. Although Greg Ayers and Monica Ho did their best to sustain an earnest atmosphere of mysterious confusion and artistic "woo-woo" (with Lily Tung Crystal doubling as Sadako's mother and a doctor), there was no avoiding the fact that the play mostly came to life whenever Leon Goertzen's comical villain was front and center. The opening night performance was also hampered by a Bay area heat wave that made NOHspace's auditorium quite uncomfortable.

Poster art for Crane (Photo by: Adam Tolbert)

Performances of Crane continue at NOHspace through October 11 (click here to order tickets).

In a new book entitled Not Gay: Sex Between Straight White Men, Dr Jane Ward discusses the phenomenon of a “bro-job” (which is defined as "oral sex between two allegedly heterosexual male friends, particularly when said friends are wasted"). Should it come as any surprise that a highly successful gay male porn website is named Cocky Boys? Or that, underneath all that machismo and drunken bravado, some straight men are trembling with sexual insecurity?

Seemingly devoid of any sense of responsibility (or concern for anything other than their immediate needs), Lonergan's trio of losers includes:

Dennis Ziegler (David Raymond), the son of a famous artist who jokes that his parents pay him not to live at home with them. As the audience files into the theatre, they watch this classic bully nervously moving around his apartment. A sure sign that his restlessness may be chemically induced is his limited attention span (a straight young man who holds up a Playboy centerfold with one hand and keeps staring at it without being able to find his crotch is easily distracted).

Warren Straub (Sam Bertken), a 19-year-old bundle of insecurities who just got kicked out of his abusive father's apartment. On his way out the door, Warren managed to put some of his favorite collectible items (classic toys, vinyl LPs, and a vintage "limited edition" toaster) into his suitcase and "rescue" $15,000 in cash from a briefcase that was lying on his father's bed. Despondent and confused about the misery and lack of direction in his life, Warren is no match for Dennis's scathing putdowns, raging misogyny, alarming mood swings, and physical aggression.

Jessica Goldman (Katie Robbins), a fashion student who can't resist a good argument. When Warren attempts to use his money to lure Jessica into bed, his nervous efforts become a comedy of errors which eventually leads to a night of bliss in a suite at the Plaza Hotel. What may have seemed like the potential for a romantic relationship to Warren is quickly shattered when Jessica is grounded by her mother.

Sam Bertken (Warren) and Katie Robbins (Jessica) in a
scene from This Is Our Youth (Photo by: Jay Yamada)

Although filled with macho posturing and vicious jibes, Lonergan's script paints a picture of three young adults who have had every advantage laid at their feet but lack any sense of who they really are. Heavily subsidized by their parents (Dennis earns his spending money by dealing drugs), they have nothing of their own that they can fall back on (or that propels them forward). It often seems as if their emotional growth ceased shortly after they left middle school.

Working on a unit set designed by Stewart Lyle, Brian Katz has directed This Is Our Youth with a keen eye toward pacing while nearing the surprising twists in Lonergan's play. Although Bertken and Robbins do an excellent job of capturing the body language of listless slackers who can quickly tally the insults and injuries they have suffered from their parents, David Raymond's mercurial performance anchors the evening with a feral energy that often fails to mask his underlying fears.

Performances of This Is Our Youth continue at the Custom Made Theatre through October 17 (click here to order tickets). Here's the trailer:

While audiences around the world have gained insights into 1984's strike by the National Union of Mineworkers through such films as 2000's Billy Elliott and 2014's Pride, Kerrigan's play brings the audience into a much more intimate environment, an apartment in which two gay men agree to house two straight and striking miners from South Wales. As NCTC's artistic director, Ed Decker, explains:

"It's particularly meaningful to me to kick off our line-up with this fact-based play about the often-overlooked alliance between Welsh miners and the lesbian and gay community in Thatcher-era Britain. Not only is this story about a significant moment in history; it is also a perfect early example of queer and allied unity. The NCTC mission statement champions such alliances and their often underestimated potential to advance social change. Now we have the chance to see advocacy and unity of purpose unfold on stage as a living testament to all that is possible when we work together."

After Sean moves to London and comes out of the closet, he settles down with a handsome young music student from Canada named Gene (Stephen McFarland) and becomes interested in political activism. Nevertheless, he still finds himself haunted by the ghost of Jim (who was shot and killed during the Bloody Sunday protest march on January 30, 1972). Upon meeting some striking workers from South Wales at a demonstration, Sean offers to put them up while they are in London. Needless to say, their arrival at his apartment causes some tension.

The miners arrive as Gene is coaching his fellow student, Candida (Alyssa Stone), in some German lieder in anticipation of their upcoming exams. A young, married woman from Chelsea, Candida is a staunch supporter of Margaret Thatcher and believes everything she hears on the telly.

Rhys (Paul Rodriguez) is slightly homophobic and initially balks at the idea of sharing a fold-out bed with his fellow miner. However, over the course of a year, Rhys comes to appreciate what Sean and Gene are doing to help the miners. Thanks to Gene's coaching, Rhys even learns how to cook.

David (Shane Fahy), who is single and older than Rhys, becomes exposed to a world of art, music, and philosophy that he could never have imagined had he remained in South Wales.

Stephen McFarland, Miles Duffield, and Shane Fahy a scene
from For The Love of Comrades(Photo by: Lois Tema)

As both sets of men relax and start to bond, the miners begin to feel like part of a family and open up to their hosts. When Gene is gay-bashed on his way home, David and Rhys are quick to administer first aid while Candida (who claims to be Gene's best friend) can only fret about how her accompanist's injuries may impact his performance during her upcoming recital.

Though Sean and Gene's home life may seem well settled, Gene is keenly aware that Sean never seems able to say three critical words ("I love you"). Meanwhile, Sean (who has become infatuated with a handsome activist) has fantasies of traveling to Nicaragua to help the rebels.

Shane Fahy, Paul Rodrigues, Miles Duffield, and Stephen McFarland
appear in For The Love of Comrades (Photo by: Lois Tema)

As most people are aware, in 1992 the British government shut down hundreds of mines (pits) across Great Britain, which left close to 31,000 miners without employment. While the male ensemble in New Conservatory Theatre Center's staging of For The Love of Comrades was quite strong, a noticeable weak point in the production was Alyssa Stone's performance as Candida. While Stone has a classically-trained voice which can handle the role's singing requirements, her acting was often cringeworthy.

Miles Duffield and Shane Fahy in For The Love of Comrades
(Photo by: Lois Tema)

Performances of For The Love of Comrades continue at New Conservatory Theatre Center through October 11 (click here to order tickets).

Monday, September 21, 2015

At some point in your life, you've probably tried to end a phone conversation by saying "I love you" only to hear the voice on the other end of the line reply "I love you more." How people express their love for one another has become a constant source of inspiration for novelists, playwrights, songwriters, and poets. Consider the sentiments expressed in Elizabeth Barrett Browning's famous sonnet.

"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death."

For some, love is a solemn commitment based on a sense of joy and devotion "to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part." However, that doesn't mean that people can't occasionally mock the way they show their love for each other.

Romance is all well and good as a source of artistic fodder. But the love of a father or mother for their children is presumed to be unconditional. What happens when a parent receives a stunning challenge regarding their child or delivers a startling ultimatum to their offspring? Complications quickly ensue.

The mother (who has been at home doing household chores while taking care of her three-year-old son) has no knowledge of the Tibetan custom of tulku. At first she is horrified by the prospect of being separated from her child and surprised by her husband's muted reaction to the visiting lama's request.

Ruhl learned about the practice from her housekeeper, who told her of two Tibetans she knew who had closed their restaurant and moved to Tibet when informed that their son was one of the chosen few. As Ruhl became more fascinated by Tibet's cultural traditions, she struggled to figure out how she could write a play about an American mother (probably Caucasian) who was asked to give up her son so that he could be raised in a monastery on the other side of the world. As the playwright explains:

"Tibetan Buddhists believe that while all of us are reborn, high spiritual masters are reincarnated (meaning they get to choose their new life and often choose a context that will be most fruitful to them in continuing their life’s work). I was first introduced to the concept of the tulku system (by which the student searches for the reincarnation of his former teacher) in the beautiful documentary Unmistaken Child. I was so moved by the idea that a student could find a teacher again; that the student becomes the teacher and the teacher becomes the student, lifetime after lifetime. I have been very lucky in my own life to have had extraordinary teachers. I was comforted by the idea that I might have known them before and might know them again.

When considering writing a play about a child who was a reincarnated spiritual master, I wondered how I would cast that role with a three-year-old who could memorize lines, project, and evince the spiritual authority of a 70-year-old lama. This seemed an almost impossible task. Since three year olds aren’t very reliable, I decided to use a puppet. The metaphor of the puppet and the puppeteer is meant to connect the child, or body, with the older spirit that animates the child. I’ve always wanted to work with puppets and I felt that the puppet would be the most clear way to see the child and the child’s previous life at the same time."

Tenzin interacts with his father Kurt Uy() and mother (Christine
Albright) in a scene from The Oldest Boy(Photo by: Kevin Berne)

Ruhl doesn't hesitate to credit puppet maker Eric Bass, whose essay entitled “The Myths of Puppet Theater” helped her to understand how to present her story onstage. As Bass explains;

“There are two myths about puppet theater that need to be exploded. The first of them is the myth that the puppeteer controls the puppet. This myth is, of course, supported by numerous catch phrases in our language and culture (He played him like a puppet. Puppet government). All suggest that the puppeteer makes the puppet do whatever he or she wants. Although some puppeteers do try to impose their will on the objects of their art, most know that this is a disservice to both the art and the object. Our job, our art, is to bring the puppet to life. To impose control over the object is, in both spirit and practice, the opposite of this.

As puppeteers it is, surprisingly, not our job to impose our intent on the puppet. It is our job to discover what the puppet can do and what it seems to want to do. It has propensities. We want to find out what they are and support them. We are, in this sense, less like tyrants and more like nurses to these objects. They seem to have destinies. We want to help them arrive at those destinies. It requires from us a generosity. If we try to dominate them, we will take from them the life we are trying to give them.”

While being educated in a monastery, Tenzin speaks with his
mother (Christine Albright) in a scene from The Oldest Boy(Photo by: Kevin Berne)

Working on sets designed by Collette Pollard (with costumes by Fumiko Bielefeldt), the bulk of the narrative falls on the shoulders of Christine Albright who, as Tenzin's mother, struggles to come to terms with why she should give her child up to be raised in a monastery (and why getting pregnant and giving birth to a girl will ensure that her next child cannot be taken away from her).

As she gropes her way to a better understanding of reincarnation (as seen through the eyes of Tibetan Buddhists), Albright travels a tremendous emotional, psychological, and spiritual distance at the same time that her husband regresses, discovering that he's not so keen on giving up his son after all.

While the journey may follow a long and winding path, the beautiful performances by Jinn S. Kim and Christine Albright anchor Ruhl's play in a most humane fashion. I also found myself riveted while watching the intense concentration of puppeteer Jed Parsario (whose eyes often seemed to be on fire).

Performances of The Oldest Boy continue at the Marin Theatre Company through October 11 (click here to order tickets).

"Everybody’s a Bottom in Eric Tucker’s riotous production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream in which a cast of five divides and multiplies like a troupe of stage-struck amoebas. Bottom is portrayed most zealously and multifariously by Jason O’Connell. But it seems clear that all the performers here have been infected by Bottom’s bottomless passion to take on any role that might be on offer, and to turn every thought and impulse into theatrical action. In their hands, Shakespeare’s tale of love lost and found in an enchanted forest becomes a gleeful paean to the joys of losing and finding yourself through acting."

King Lear's tragedy is sparked by a vain old man's foolish request for each of his daughters to tell him how much they love him so he can decide how to divide his kingdom. After he has banished his youngest (and truest) daughter from England, his oldest daughters -- Goneril (Arwen Anderson) and Regan (El Beh) -- waste no time trivializing his importance, downgrading his retinue, and stripping their father of his royal stature. Indeed, one of the most famous quotes from the play is the sadly disillusioned King's comment "How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child!"

In her program note, Calshakes's resident dramaturg Philippa Kelly writes:

"Given that Lear reveals himself so early on as self-centered and violent -- not to mention badly in need of some gender-awareness training -- what is it that has continued to draw audiences, for 400-plus years, into the suffering and the psyche of such a character? I think the key lies in empathy -- what the OED defines as 'the power of projecting one's personality into, and so fully understanding, the object of contemplation.' Empathy is the quality that can open up the play as freshly today as in 1605, when it would have shocked the life out of audiences who believed utterly in the rightful predominance of God and the monarchy. Empathy, in other words, is what can make an old, entitled white king somehow a mirror for men, women, even teenagers, of many classes and races through ever-changing times and places."

In Dehnert's production, certain standard ideas about Shakespeare's tragedy have been turned upside down and inside out. The critical character of the Fool has been transformed from a man into a woman (who, although frequently referred to as "boy" remains very much a cisgender woman). Second is the fact that the Fool is played by the same actress (Kjerstine Rose Anderson) who portrays his King's youngest (and least selfish) daughter, Cordelia.

Cordelia (Kjerstine Rose Anderson) and her father (Anthony Heald)
in a scene from Shakespeare's King Lear (Photo by: Kevin Berne)

The tragedy of King Lear has never lacked for deception, disillusionment, and death. As Goneril, Arwen Anderson acted as a malevolent ice queen, intent on scheming to murder her husband, the Duke of Albany (Sam Misner) with the help of the bastard Edmund (Dan Clegg) and manipulating her servant, Oswald (Patrick Alparone) to stir up trouble. As Regan (the equally vicious middle sister), El Beh was forcefully clad in leather befitting a dominatrix (an appropriate costume for stabbing your husband to death and mercilessly ripping out an old man's eye).

Craig Marker doubled as Regan's husband, the Duke of Cornwall, and a doctor in Cordelia's camp, with Patrick Alparone doing a stunning job as both the King of France (who marries the shamed Cordelia) and Oswald (Goneril's servant). In lesser roles, Aldo Billingslea was an extremely touching Earl of Kent, Charles Shaw Robinson a sadly misguided Gloucester, and Rafael Jordan portrayed Gloucester's legitimate son, Edgar.

Anthony Heald as King Lear (Photo by: Kevin Berne)

The real question however, is how well the actor portraying Lear succeeds in capturing the tragedy of a foolish old man. Dehnert's direction began with Lear's appearance as a doting father, merrily enjoying his power games with "Daddy's little girls" until one of them gives him an answer he furiously rejects. From that point onward, Lear descends with increasing rapidity into anger, bitterness, and madness, becoming an object worthy of pity.

While 71-year-old Anthony Heald gave a stirring and highly energetic performance as Lear, the full weight of his downfall was diminished by Dehnert's staging of the final scene (in which the play seemed to implode as the result of a poorly-conceived directorial choice in which the dead characters silently and briefly came back to life). This unfortunate gimmick sapped the dramatic strength from the play's final moments.

Anthony Heald as King Lear (Photo by: Kevin Berne)

It's too bad no production photos are available of Patrick Alparone's ridiculous Oswald or Dan Clegg's finely drawn Edmund -- whose time onstage easily outshone Lear's eldest daughters. Performances of King Lear continue through October 11 at the Bruns Amphitheatre in Orinda (click here for tickets).